My Thought Exactly
by littlemousegray
Summary: "Aasar, why did you kiss me?" Carrie settles her scores after the Embassy attack and drabble/affection ensues. A one-shot build on "Sanctuary" by LilMisfit5290.


For this story, I'm grateful to the collective inspiration of indigo, Blossom, candyquakenbush, LilMisfit, the Tumblr shipper community and others, who created the realm of post-4x07/08 fics. The spark for the story came from candy (thank you for all your insights) and the setting and background from "Sanctuary" by LilMisfit5290 (go read it now!). Story takes place sometime between episode 11 and 12, post-Embassy attack and shortly before Carrie's departure from Pakistan.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, plotlines or episodes - Homeland universe developed by Alex Gansa and Howard Gordon and the real story belongs to Showtime. No profit intended, nor copyright infringement.

* * *

They were standing in a corner of the embassy garden, a light breeze rustling the trees, having left behind them their final, under-the-table bilateral debrief. She had said something about needing to talk, something not work-related – she promised – before she left for the US. He had never expected this:

"Aasar, did you kiss me?"

"What?" he sputtered.

"I said did you kiss me."

"Carrie, I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's been coming back, Aasar," she said. "I'm starting to remember things. I said I remembered the part at the end, with you. But not just the end. You also kissed…"

"No."

"No?"

"I didn't kiss you."

"So what am I remembering then?"

He mulled the right answer. "The duty of a friend."

"The duty of a friend?"

"You were troubled, Carrie. That made you vulnerable and deserving of care. I'd never seen someone I cared about in such mental distress and pain."

"So now you care about me."

"No, I –" frustrated, he said, "I meant that, the people I've seen distressed before, were not my friends."

"But I was. Is that right Aasar? Tell me how a friend didn't prevent an attack where thirty-plus of my friends died. A kidnapping of my mentor. The assassination of my asset."

"You have plenty of proof of my goodwill."

"Boyd, nothing more, Aasar. You didn't save a soul."

"Then," he said, "we don't have much to talk about, do we."

"I guess not."

He glared at her. When he did, his stomach unexpectedly became like an inner contortionist. Carrie returned his glance only as long as it took to make both of them uncomfortable, and then she walked away. Nervously, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

"Don't smoke," he told her.

She peeked at him while lighting up. "I won't."

"No Carrie, I mean it. It's terrible for your health."

The lighter clicked, emitting a blue flame that trembled in the wind, and as she cupped her hand around it a whisper of smoke began ascending skyward. "But so good," she oozed, taking a long draw. She blew away the smoke and Aasar stepped aside and squinted, making sure it didn't hit him.

He watched her as she inhaled her cigarette, once, twice, until the end. It felt like just the right amount of time to spend single-handedly looking at someone. They made eye contact once or twice, but mostly, it was him looking at her until she ground the butt under her shoe.

"Why did you ask if I kissed you," he said.

She thought about it. "Because the memory was vivid and real. It happened. But you – it doesn't feel right."

"No, it doesn't," he said, lying a little. "But you thought I was someone else, someone you loved. Did you want me to push you away?"

She didn't have an answer.

"If you think that acting cold would have brought you to your senses, you're wrong. You were mad. Raving. I did everything I could to reassure you. And when _you_–" he emphasized the word – "kissed _me_, the only thing I could do was…"

He paused, but Carrie's glance didn't let him off the hook.

"Carrie, you understand. Anything short of that would have been cruel."

Carrie considered his words and wiped her nose. A little silent, still, she breathed in and said, "I hate that this happened. I hate it."

"Yes, I know," he said.

Their eyes met and they held the gaze for a few seconds. Then looked away, each affecting indifference.

He said after a moment, "I hope you also remember, Carrie, that after that moment when you… you fell asleep… in my arms…" he was shifting and uncomfortable. "I hope you remember there was nothing else. I carried you to the bed and lay you there to sleep."

"Did we talk?"

"A little. You were exhausted by then. It didn't last long," he said, lying through his teeth and hoping she had forgotten. He remembered distinctly the intimate cross-wise conversation they had had about Brody, her daughter, and Carrie's demons at the agency.

Aasar's memories returned to the feelings that had swirled inside him that evening. It was like a wound he didn't know he had whose dressing had suddenly been peeled off by the intimacy of the situation.

He found himself blurting out, "I hope you don't regret that you spent the night with me— I mean that the guards brought to my home, at my direction."

She looked at him with complete surprise. "No, not at all. I forgive you – I mean, I understand you." She looked at the ground. "You did the right thing. I don't know what would have happened to me in a Pakistani prison," she said.

"My thought exactly."

He didn't want to linger on the thought, but couldn't think of anything to add. It felt like something was missing.

Flustered, he took a step towards her and lowered his voice. "Carrie, there have been times when I was asked to take actions that deliberately put you in danger, and on the day of the Embassy attack GIs died because I complied with those orders. Please, trust me. You have to leave."

"Yeah, that's taken care of," she said. "Thanks."

Her lips were quivering a little. Aasar saw she was not keeping it together and felt the urge to touch her.

"I'll see you again before you leave," he said, too softly. "We'll make it more private."

She nodded saying yes, but her eyes were skeptical it would really happen.

"In case we don't, Aasar," she said, "I need to know one thing before you go. Now."

"Of course, please."

"Did I ever say… I love you?"

"Love you?"

"Yes. When I was ill, when I thought I was talking to Brody, did I say, 'I love you.'"

He peered into her eyes and at her lip, which had, again, quivered imperceptibly.

"No," he lied.

Her face fell. Aasar kicked himself. Carrie had no interest in whether he'd made the faux pas of saying I love you back.

He forced himself to frown and interrupted, "No no, I'm sorry. You made no such declaration to me. But yes, of course, you said 'I love you' to Sergeant Brody. You told him you loved him when you started to believe he was real."

She was keenly following his words and he noticed her blue eyes had ever so slightly begun to gleam.

"I think you said it several times," he added.

Carrie's head turned away from him, as she tried to conceal her emotion.

"Carrie," he beseeched her, "You kissed me very passionately and affirmed your love in every way. Please believe me when I say, it wasn't for nothing. I truly believe he heard you." He paused. "Whatever feelings you had for this man, he knew them. I could feel it."

She bit her lip and clenched her fist, persisting in looking away.

"Are you alright," he said, softly, mindful he had to leave.

At that, her eyes shot towards his. Wincing as she breathed, she took a step towards him and, without asking, grabbed his hand. "I'm fine," she said, clutching his fingers. "Aasar, thank you. That's all I wanted to hear."

After checking no one was looking, he pulled her into his chest and rubbed her back. He felt small before the tempest in her mind.


End file.
